


Wet and Gushy

by haganenoheichou



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: M/M, Omegaverse, Pre-Zukka, Stripper AU, Strippers & Strip Clubs, WAP, alpha!Sokka, omega!Zuko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:42:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26378239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haganenoheichou/pseuds/haganenoheichou
Summary: Sokka's had aspirations to get a solo dance for years, so he's understandably pissed off when the new guy swoops in and steals his thunder. Then the new guy dances to WAP, and Sokka’s bisexuality takes a hard gay turn.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 292





	Wet and Gushy

**Author's Note:**

> This filth has been in my head since I heard the song, so like... don't judge.

Let's get this right out of the way, shall we? Sokka was comfortable with his body. Very much so. Especially ever since he had discovered that cardio wasn't the only kind of exercise on the planet and proceeded to get nicely toned at the local studio by doing intense yoga classes every other day.

Five times a week, Sokka would use his recently-found strength and try to discover more exciting new angles for his butt to look just the right kind of delicious in the giant studio mirror at rehearsals. When Sokka was there, he often glanced sideways at all the other dancers to see what he could borrow from their craft. It also helped that they were all objectively beautiful people and had core strength for days.

At night, Sokka would use whatever he learned on the floor. Yeah, maybe he wasn't a solo dancer just yet. Maybe Katara was being incredibly unfair to her own brother, her own flesh and blood, when she said he was too clumsy to perform on his own. Still, he knew that when he was out there with someone else, all eyes had to be on him. Sokka was the kind of person who thrived on attention - and he made sure he got it one way or another.

When the time came, he ripped off Velcro, tore through tank tops, and slammed himself down onto the stage, butt in the air, to cheers from their loyal customers. He recognized a few faces in the crowd - after all, there were some who came to see him perform almost every single night. Well, maybe not him _specifically,_ but the club was popular enough to have loyal customers. Sokka once joked about handing out stamp cards - _attend five shows, get one free type_ of deal - but Katara had not found that amusing at all.

The truth was that the club was doing well, but they could all see the cracks in the ceiling, the chipping paint, the rips in the costumes, the missing make-up brushes. More and more, Sokka would bring stuff from home to try to supplement their stocks of glitter, fabric, and ribbons. And it was a shame, too, but there was very little they could do when the competition between places like this was quite stiff in a city as big as Ba Sing Se.

Still, Sokka was convinced that his time to shine would come soon. He had worked his booty off to make it all the way to the top and start getting solos.

Which was why he was slightly more than just a little bit pissed off when he saw the new kid show up after practice one day, booty shorts and all, and promptly take a spot at the mirror, clearly aiming to prepare for a show. The _soloist’s mirror._

"Who the hell is this guy?" He hissed to Aang, who was busy fixing someone's thong in the corner, a thread and needle between his teeth. "I'm gone for one day, and Katara hires some-,"

“Oh, him?” Aang asked, glancing over at the new guy who apparently liked to put the _rood_ in _brood_ , ignoring any attempts at conversation from his fellow dancers with his arms folded across his chest as he surveyed the make-up supplies critically, his face hidden by the hood of a massive sweater that seemed to drown his entire figure. Never mind that he did not show for rehearsals, popped in out of nowhere, and Katara appeared to be utterly blind to that. "That's Zuko, he's new."

“No shit,” Sokka said through gritted teeth. “Where does he get off skipping practice and inserting himself into show night?”

“Oh, he doesn’t need practice,” Aang said, his smirk way too wide for Sokka to be comfortable with. “He’s _amazing._ I’ve never seen moves like that.”

Sokka scoffed. “Just because pretty boy here has _moves_ -,”

“You don’t get it,” Aang hushed him. “I don’t know if there’s such a thing as being a natural at stripping, but this guy… he’s it!”

“When did he even try out?” Sokka asked. “Katara didn’t say anything about looking for a new dancer - _I was supposed to have the next solo!_ ”

“When did Katara ever give you a solo?” Aang asked casually.

“That’s not the point!” Sokka snapped. “The point is that I’ve been here for _ages_ and I’m not going to let some Pete Wenz wannabe-,”

“Dance circles around you?” Aang finished for him helpfully. “Trust me, he already has. Just… take a look at his number, okay? Before you make any snap judgments?”

Sokka sighed deeply. Snap judgments were kind of his thing.

“Fine.” He groaned and strode over to where the new kid stood.

“Hey, I’m Sokka, didn’t mean to interrupt-,”

The kid turned around, and Sokka took a good look at his face for the first time. Two thoughts barged their way into his head in rapid succession. One that the kid had a gigantic scar over his eye that looked pretty gnarly, as if someone had pressed a white-hot iron to his face and two, that he was-,

“So pretty,” Sokka whispered, just in time to be absolutely mortified.

The guy's eyes widened minutely, and he granted Sokka a deep scowl.

“What did you just say to me?” He snapped. Fuck, even his voice was hot. This was officially unfair.

“Uh, _nothing_ , I said that your moves were _shitty_. It's a miracle Katara would let you join," Sokka replied flippantly while secretly wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole and digest him right away.

"You came all the way over here to tell me I suck?" The new guy asked. Zuko. Zuko asked. Zuko, the new dancer.

“Uh… no?” Sokka muttered. Why the fuck was he so stupid around hot people? “Uh, I just… wanted to introduce myself and… stuff.”

"Great," said Zuko, giving him one mean stink eye. "Now, can you go away? I'm trying to figure out my make-up."

“Oh yeah, you must need a lot to cover up-,” Sokka cut himself off when he saw the glare he received from the golden-eyed dancer. “I didn’t mean-,”

"Just… leave me alone, alright?" Zuko said forcefully, pushing past the bumbling mess that was Sokka. The latter was left standing in the middle of the make-up room while the other dancers eyed him with disbelief.

“What?” He snapped, rounding on them. “I know I messed up, okay?!”

“No, it’s just funny,” Ty Lee said, smirking at him from here her knee was bent around her own neck as she stood powdering her nose in front of the mirror.

“Funny how Omegas make you go all silly.”

***

 _Fucking Omegas,_ Sokka cursed at himself as he stood in the back of the club, still fuming over his interaction with Zuko. He wasn't even that mad at the Omega for having been rude to him - honestly, what had he expected, given the fact that he'd managed to insult him twice within the span of a single minute? He was mad at himself for not considering that he was _weak_ when it came to attractive individuals and that him being an Alpha meant that he basically lost every single brain cell when he was around an Omega like Zuko.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, focusing his attention on counting the cash he was trying to scrape out of his shorts. It wasn’t too bad for one performance, but he knew that if he wanted to make real money, he had to get those damn solos. No matter how hot Zuko was, Sokka highly doubted that he merited just getting one right off the bat.

“And now, ladies, gents, and everyone in between and outside of the binary, we present to you our newest jewel, the alluring, beautiful _Firelord_!” Aang screamed into the microphone, probably deafening the entire front row.

Sokka rolled his eyes. _Firelord._

And then the music started. _Shit,_ Sokka thought as his eyes widened, and he leaned in unconsciously, his eyes fixed on the lone figure on the stage whose hands wrapped around the pole.

_I said certified freak, seven days a week_

_Wet-ass pussy, make that pullout game weak_

Sokka’s mouth went dry as Zuko, _Firelord_ Zuko, his scar covered in fucking _glitter_ , unceremoniously lifted his leg in a standing split. The audience seemed to freeze for a second before going completely wild. It _rained_ money while Zuko hooked said leg around the pole and gave a lazy spin, booty shorts shimmering with red and gold sequins.

_Yeah, you fuckin' with some wet-ass pussy_

_Bring a bucket and a mop for this wet-ass pussy_

_Give me everything you got for this wet-ass pussy_

The crowd howled, and Sokka couldn't help but cheer with them as Zuko hoisted himself up onto the pole, upside down, and opened his legs in a mind-blowing split before sliding down and flipping over at the last moment, his crotch meeting the floor. The lights flashed spasmodically, and he crawled across the stage towards the audience whose hands stretched out wads of cash towards him. He turned around, and suddenly one of the lucky audience members was met with a full view of his ass.

_Put this pussy right in your face_

_Swipe your nose like a credit card_

Sokka couldn’t believe what he was hearing, what he was _watching_ , and how much he liked it. He knew that his fellow dancers were watching him out of the corner of their eye, but he couldn’t find a fuck to give. Rude Zuko had moves for days.

_I want you to park that big Mack truck right in this little garage_

Zuko flipped himself onto his feet, shaking his ass teasingly at the guest he’d just given an eyeful, his expression completely stony. Then he took a running start before grabbing onto the pole again and pulling himself up to the very top.

_Now get your boots and your coat for this wet-ass pussy_

_He bought a phone just for pictures of this wet-ass pussy_

The dancers ooh’ed in admiration as he seemed to hold on to the pole with nothing, sliding down in the most sensual way Sokka had ever witnessed. How did someone so fucking _chiseled_ manage to be so graceful at the same time? Who _was_ this guy?

_Now make it rain if you wanna see some wet-ass pussy_

And rain it did. Sokka had never seen anything like it. The room was suddenly filled with money. It fell like confetti as Zuko surveyed it cooly while performing acrobatic tricks that made Ty Lee gasp in unbridled admiration.

He somehow missed the moment when Zuko had leaped off the stage, strutting down the space between the tables with his hips swinging dangerously, batting away the lecherous hands that seemed to want to grab ahold of him.

_I don't wanna spit, I wanna gulp_

_I wanna gag, I wanna choke_

Suddenly, Zuko was stretched out on the bar right in front of Sokka's face, and his brain seemed to short-circuit as the dancer made straight-up eye contact with him.

_I want you to touch that lil' dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat_

"Holy shit," Sokka mouthed, his eyes fixed on Zuko's before the other dancer's mouth spasmed into what could have been a smirk, and he bounded away, gone as fast as he had come over, leaving Sokka open-mouthed with a very awkward boner.

Ty Lee gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. At the same time, Zuko threw himself onto the stage in one filthy, sexy puddle, his fingers trailing from his neck to his chest sensually to the rhythm of the song.

_If it don't hang, then he can't bang_

_You can't hurt my feelings, but I like pain_

_If he fuck me and ask Whose is it?_

_When I ride the dick, I'ma spell my name_

Sokka watched with horrified fascination as Zuko's elegant, strong hand dipped into the waistband of his booty shorts, making the crowd go wild yet again. The small break in the song made it apparent just how enthralled everyone was - there was no talking, just cheering and money-throwing, and for a moment, Sokka wished he was fucking rich enough to be sitting up there at the front of the room, getting an eyeful of Zuko's-

The Omega whipped up to stand again, hand on the pole, legs in the air, longish black hair swinging wildly as he made _love_ to the pole, no, he _fucked_ the pole, and Sokka suddenly realized he'd had a life-long aspiration to _be_ a pole-

_Now from the top, make it drop, that's some wet-ass pussy_

_Now get a bucket and a mop, that's some wet-ass pussy_

_I'm talkin' wap, wap, wap, that's some wet-ass pussy_

_Macaroni in a pot, that's some wet-ass pussy_

As the last word dropped, the music stopped abruptly, and the room went dark as Zuko’s shadow, the only thing that was left visible of him, whipped off his shorts.

The club went deathly silent before a cacophony of screams, shrieks and incredibly dirty compliments filled the air.

Sokka watched as Zuko, dressed in nothing but a silky red kimono that brushed his mid-thigh, strutted out to general fascination, disinterestedly collecting the money from his new adoring fans. The dancer, his hands full of cash, looked up, and for a moment, their eyes locked across the room.

It was at that moment that Sokka realized.

He was _fucked_.


End file.
